Picking Wild Raspberries

I recently went raspberry picking, as I do every year. The plans for this year's harvest is to make wild berry jam with a good friend. Blueberries, blackberries and raspberries; all picked in the wild. Happily, this year I discovered two new areas to pick. As I was picking with only the sounds of nature around me, the sun's heat beating down upon me and the beautiful red bounty found on each bush, I was reminded of something I had written a few years ago.

Wild Raspberries

I go to my secret stash. Known to a few, picked only by me. A yearly ritual varying by days within the same two glorious weeks in August. Never knowing how bountiful or how many times I can enjoy the picking; is always a surprise. While some years are almost unbearable hot, with swarms of mosquitoes, some are cool and pleasant. The first gathering of this season fed the soul as well as the tongue.

It had rained for most of the day. Droplets of clean rainwater clung to the branches, leaves and berries like bright flawless diamonds. The berries were plentiful and ripe to falling into my outstretched hand. Listening to the wind lazily stir the trees and the incessant buzzing of desperately hungry mosquitoes. A gentle rain begins to fall. It’s tempo, music to my ears. Face up-turned, eyes close as the water caresses in softly falling drops. Dancing berries in the breeze catches my ear like the tinkle of bells singing sweetly. The stress of the day fades away as I sit in the arms of the wild raspberries.


The deep darkness of a summer night envelops a solitary soul in its warm embrace. The contrasting coolness of the breeze stirs the heart to dance along with the leaves above. The stars in their timeless spender, light the night sky as individual poetic jewels. The soft sounds of nature caress the ears with new songs sung nightly. Small creatures moving in unison; water tripping over times rocks and bends, leaves being played like the gentle bells of love. Where does this heart fit into the night? Busy streets of life interfere and do not let the peace of night be often felt. Nighttime’s still caress of love should be felt within the mind, heart, spirit and soul. Life is to be moved in full circles not halves. Forgetting the peace and solitude of night, and frantically moving within the day, only to collapse in dream filled sleep before the treasure of night can be felt. We move with heads, not hearts.

Night ~ star filled ~ peaceful

Breathe deep and be filled

Avie Layne 2012